


The Commandant

by andrean182



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Consensual Sex, Desk Sex, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, officer!kink, roleplaying, tarnsaurus having a great time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7764532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrean182/pseuds/andrean182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ve been a bad mech, Deathsaurus.” Tarn hovered over his back. “Maybe it’s time to teach you some lesson.” And then Tarn put a handcuff on his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Commandant

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I was messing around on Tumblr when I saw [rnegastar’s post](http://rnegastar.tumblr.com/post/148671442353/most-of-the-nsfw-tarn-scenarios-i-think-about): “Most of the nsfw Tarn scenarios I think about involve him being submissive but… Tarn as the Commandant?? Hot damn please handcuff me and have your way sir *emot* *emot*” I was thinking about Deathsaurus that time…. so why don’t I do something about it?

It was a usual night for them. Tarn laid on his berth, reading a datapad aloud, while having Deathsaurus in his beast form, purring softly.

He finally turned off the datapad. “Okay, that’s it for tonight. You are needed tomorrow.”

“Mmph?”

Tarn chuckled, voice rich with amusement. “I know you’re going to pester me later, just tell me now what do you want to know.”

“Tarn,” the beast on his chest stirred. “What did you do before you become the leader of the DJD?”

Tarn was startled at the bluntness. It wasn’t because of the question; he already knew Deathsaurus was a blunt mech. But, more about the timing. It would take him long to explain what did he do, because he was sure Deathsaurus would like to hear all of it.

“Before I become the leader of the DJD? I was a warden at a prison.”

“A warden?” Deathsaurus asked, intrigued. He had been expecting Tarn as a soldier, or officer, but not this.

“At _Grindcore_. It was a long time ago, before I get my newer form.”

The beastformer blinked at him. “You have an older form?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Tarn replied. It was fine with having Deathsaurus know, anyway. “It wasn’t much different than this, only that my threads were on my back, instead of on my shoulders.”

“On your back?”

“Like a cape. But it wasn’t exactly good in combat, so I reformed to this.” He put the datapad aside. “At that time, though, there weren’t much combat. Mostly just a prisoner escaping, something like that.”

“How did they call you back then?”

“‘Commandant’, because I was in charge of the whole facility.”

“Hmm, ‘Commandant’. I like that.” He grinned.

Tarn chuckled. “Sleep, now.”

-

This was, Deathsaurus thinks, the smartest thing he had ever asked Tarn to do.

He’d asked Tarn about his past. Tarn told him that he was a warden at a time, with the title of ‘Commandant’.

And it instantly turned him on.

After ten days of holding his desire back, and one or two occasions of getting horny when Tarn was presenting his new plan at a meeting, he finally got the gut to ask him.

The question was simple, actually, “Would you like to roleplay as the Commandant?”

But it turned to something else, entirely.

Well, Tarn requested Nickel to alter his frame (he didn’t know how it was done, or did Nickel fuss and asked what the frag with the sudden request), only for fulfilling his dirty thought. He wouldn’t waste the opportunity to please his lover. The first time Deathsaurus saw Tarn’s older frame, he was breathless. He was _royal._

Screw his dirty mind!

His threads were elegantly splayed on his back, like a cape fitted a commander. And with his slightly altered frame, Deathsaurus could explore new sensors and new ways to make him squirm without leaving him for long, which he wouldn’t like btw.

And he became rather giddy and possessive of him, because he often saw his crew looking at Tarn with a hungry look in their optics. And it opened the exhibitionist side of him, wanting to take Tarn into a hallway, or even the rec room, only to pin him to the nearest wall. ‘Yes, look at him. Look at us. He’s mine. Not yours.’

But the fun hadn’t even _started_.

They hadn’t even talked about how were they going to play this. But one night, after a particularly difficult day, he was walking towards his and Tarn’s room, looking forward to refreshing his mind, and finding said mech was sitting on his desk. He knew well Tarn was inside, his smell was strong enough, and his shift had ended anyway. But he was going through some reports, not even looking up at Deathsaurus’ entrance.

“Tarn?” Deathsaurus asked, curious as to why was the mech on his desk.

Tarn tsked, deactivating a datapad, and activating another. “You are late.”

Deathsaurus entered, closing the door behind him. “What… are you doing?”

“If this were the best you can write, I wouldn’t want to read any reports from you.”

Puzzled, Deathsaurus walked closer. He was feeling enough with today and he wanted to _rest_ , for frag’s sake. In front of the desk, he crossed his servos. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Tsk. How disrespectful. It would earn you a week in the cell.”

Deathsaurus grimaced, and about to tell Tarn to cut it out when the tank stood up.

“I’ve tried to tell you, Deathsaurus. To teach you. And you never listen.” He walked behind the beast. “Your doings were unlawful. They contradict the Cause, the Decepticon way.”

Well, Deathsaurus liked to be reminded, but Tarn was getting annoying.

“Cut it out, T—”

Suddenly, he was tackled to the desk. His hands were pinned behind his back, his wings crushed painfully to his back. His head hit the desk with a loud thump and some of the datapads clattered to the floor.

“Tarn! What is the meaning of this?!”

“You’ve been a bad mech, Deathsaurus.” Tarn hovered over his back. “Maybe it’s time to teach you some lesson.” And then Tarn put a handcuff on his hands.

What?!

“Tarn! Release me at once!” Deathsaurus wriggled, trying to break free from Tarn’s frame, his strength pinning him down. Although it was kind of nice having the tank pressed up to his back, now wasn’t exactly the right time. “What has gotten into you?”

“ _Stop wriggling_. And maybe I’ll show you mercy.”

It hurt; those words hurt his spark like slag. And more so because Tarn was a centimetre away from his audial. Deathsaurus immediately stilled, his optics flickered in confusion. What was going on?! Was Tarn finally turning his back on him? He couldn’t turn his head to see the tank, but he managed enough to catch a glimpse of the masked face. “W-what is this?!”

And then Tarn cupped his… interface panel?

Resisting the urge to squirm, Deathsaurus hissed as unwanted sensations suddenly shot throughout his frame. Was he just turned on by a simple swipe? Was Tarn demonstrating his superior power over him? Was Tarn…—

“Are you going to open this up, or do I have to do it myself?”

Oh. _Oh_.

That fragger was fulfilling one of Deathsaurus dirtiest fantasy. And he was sure he was smirking behind that mask. A rather good call, if he said so himself.

Tarn tapped the cover, enjoying watching the winged mech under him squirm and gasp. He was content not to let himself loose.

“No!” Deathsaurus squirmed to get away from the touch, resisting to smirk. “You won’t get into me!”

“Tsk. Such disobedience.” Purring, the tank rubbed the panel softly, enough to get Deathsaurus nearly to moan. The beast held himself not to moan when Tarn tried to coax it open. Oh… that voice.

Eventually, it opened by his own accord.

“Much better, isn’t it?”

This time, Deathsaurus did _moan_.

Tarn fingered the valve with one hand, while the other took hold of Deathsaurus’ spike. He was surprised at how dirty Deathsaurus’ mind had been, by now, he was leaking already. Deathsaurus gasped as Tarn softly squeezed his spike, transfluid already leaking from its tip. He felt his knees go weak.

“I have barely done anything and you’re already this wet.”

“ _Hnh!_ ” Why couldn’t he stop teasing him? He kept massaging his valve and his spike, never exactly entered the valve, but enough just to make him tremble beneath his frame. He tweaked Deathsaurus’ exterior nodes, causing his wings fanned out slowly from his back; Tarn had released them. His fangs started to scratch the table as he wiggled his aft, trying to get that finger inside his valve. “Keep talking!”

“Are you giving me an order?” Tarn suddenly shot his two fingers to his valve. Deathsaurus cried out, back arched in a rather uncomfortable position, pressing his back to the other’s chest. Those fingers worked his interior nodes, hitting them with accuracy, making their owner moan shamelessly. Tarn’s other hand didn’t just do nothing, too. He was slowly pumping his spike, causing more transfluid to leak to the floor below. And if it wasn’t enough, Deathsaurus was sure his other hand was wet with his lubricant in his valve… “What a mess you are.”

Deathsaurus closed his optics, fingers clawed helplessly at Tarn’s abdomen. He moaned aloud, gasping in between breaths, and his fans were on their maximum level (when had they turned on?). Oh, how he wanted to turn around and cling to those threads helplessly. But Tarn’s shoulderthreads weren’t there now. They were on his back, splayed, waiting to be touched. Deathsaurus wondered if they were still sensitive in this form.

And then suddenly Tarn pulled away entirely. It gave Deathsaurus a sense of false hope that he was going to shove his spike right into his valve. But, apparently, he wasn’t, _of course_ he wasn’t. And Deathsaurus was not sure he could take another moment of teasing.

“ _What do you want?_ ”

Thrashing, Deathsaurus couldn’t bring himself to answer as he tried to calm his spark from that erotic assault that was Tarn’s voice. He whimpered, fingers clawed desperately to the air. He wasn’t sure he could stand any longer if Tarn kept talking.

“ _Puh_ -please!”

He opened his optics. Knowing that Tarn was waiting for his answer, he, breathlessly, answered. “Want… your spike… in m-me!”

Tarn laughed (Primus, yes!), then took hold of his hips. “Why didn’t you say _so_?”

Deathsaurus cried again as Tarn’s firm length buried itself in his valve. His optics shuttered, valve walls trying to adjust themselves to the length. Tarn sighed deeply, feeling the sensation of his spike being massaged by Deathsaurus’ valve. To Deathsaurus, it hurt a bit, but it was a good kind of hurt that made him wanted _more_. Pleasure-pain shot through his heated frame, making him unconsciously rut his hips against Tarn’s, trying to make some friction. _Primus, why didn’t the mech move?!_

More transfluid dripped from his spike to the floor below when finally, Tarn moved. “A bad mech has to be punished.” Somehow, he managed to make his voice steady. “And this is your punishment.”

“Primus, _yes!_ ” his valve contracted, feeling stuffed full. Tarn’s spike hit a row of nodes, and Deathsaurus moaned every time the tank repeated the thrust. Tarn groaned, taking the beast mech in a slow manner. Deathsaurus bit his lower lips so hard he thought they were in blood. Pleasure skyrocketed in him like a bomb wanting to explode. Tarn was barely getting started and he was like this?!

Then Tarn hit home _hard_. Deathsaurus cried, writhing helplessly as Tarn set a punishing pace on him. His servos shook violently, trying to find something he could hold onto, and his knees finally gave up. His overload built up fast. Tarn was fragging him hard as if he had done something and made the tank furious. Except that the tank was, in fact, groaning and panting. His one hand tugged on the base of his wing. Deathsaurus didn’t miss the broad smirk on the mech’s faceplate as he whispered close of his audial. “I know you’re close, _Deathsaurus_. Tell me _what you want_.”

 _Fragfragfrag_ his overload was close, and he didn’t want yet this session to end. “N-no!”

“No?” Tarn wasn’t slowing down. He thrusted into Deathsaurus like the beast’s life depended on it. Deathsaurus’ groans and gasps weren’t fading either. His valve clenched tightly around the spike.

“P-please _please_! Hnnnh—sir! Please let me _overload—aaah_!”

Unable to finish his sentence, Deathsaurus shook violently as he overloaded, hot lubricants squelched in his valve as it massaged the spike inside with such intensity it made Tarn nearly overloaded along. His spike shot transfluid to the desk, and to the floor below. He cried out the tank’s name, his optics flared nearly white. It nearly knocked him offline. How long had he been ignored his frame’s need? Or was it because Tarn was _dominating_ him?

The overload subsided, but the charge didn’t die down. Deathsaurus collapsed against the desk, he nearly fell to the floor if it wasn’t for Tarn catching him. He heaved, his vents worked hard to cool his overheated frame from the powerful overload. Tarn chuckled, and it struck him that the tank hadn’t overloaded. “Look at you.” Tarn chuckled. “I never thought you’d overload so fast.”

He stood up, carried a weakened Deathsaurus to the berth. The beastformers, too weak to move, didn’t protest. Tarn laid him to the berth, unlocking his cuff, only to lock them again in the front. Deathsaurus didn’t even try to resist his hands being cuffed again. He needed a moment to catch his vents.

“So,” Tarn started, rubbing his cheek as the beast vented heavily. “shall we continue?”

“Yesss… frag me…”

Tarn chuckled, then repositioned Deathsaurus’ feet on his shoulder. “‘Frag me’, what?”

Deathsaurus gave Tarn his most inviting, alluring grin. “Frag me… sir.”

Filling the valve again, Tarn didn’t miss the bliss that appeared on Deathsaurus’ face. He purred near the audial as he set a softer pace, more familiar to them. His fans set on. He could feel the warm lubricant from Deathsaurus’ previous overload easing the way in, and his valve clenched every time Tarn entered. He didn’t know whether it was his name, or something else that Deathsaurus chanted. He felt his own overload was building rapidly.

He sped up the pace and grinned behind his mask. Deathsaurus cried excitedly, gasping each time Tarn was fully inside only to draw back and repeat the same pace, firing his nodes to life. His frame bucked with each thrust, wanting to give Tarn the load he was also feeling. Tarn’s mask came to his face, he took no time to nuzzle the beastformer’s cheek, his own moans came to life.

“Yess… _frag_ me, _sir!_ Harder!” Deathsaurus gripped the empty air, wanting to touch the tank, _his_ tank, at once. He wanted to feel him, touch him as he came over him. Instead, his fingers coiled on the cuff, as he enjoyed the speeding up pace Tarn was giving him. Tarn shifted their position a bit, allowing him to go deeper into that valve. Tarn bit his neck cabling from the edge of his mask, and it felt like he was having two sets of teeth. Nonetheless, it made Deathsaurus wished that his hands weren’t cuffed.

Rivulets of transfluid trailed down his own abdomen as his spike continued to leak more. Tarn took it into his hand, pumping it, and making Deathsaurus cried even more. He felt Deathsaurus’ valve contracting more around his girth, and he knew that the beast was going to overload for the second time. It massaged his spike in a wonderful way, making his own overload undeniable.

His hand pumped Deathsaurus’ spike harder, not even stopping when it shot transfluid to their chests and abdomens. He didn’t pull back when Deathsaurus shook, practically howled the tank’s name and roared his overload, and his valve clenched around Tarn’s spike, coaxing an overload. Tarn found he was unable to pull back, so he went as deep as he could when his own overload hit.

It hit them hard. Deathsaurus could feel the rush of hot transfluid filling his entirely full valve. Tarn held Deathsaurus’ hips in a death grip, enough to make some dents, while he shuddered above him, groaning and shooting his fluid into the throbbing valve. Deathsaurus writhed in his hold, then fell back to the berth as he rode his uncontrollably powerful overload. It knocked him offline.

Tarn slowed his ministrations, well aware that their overload was so powerful it knocked Deathsaurus offline. He groaned; his own fans vented hard, balancing those of the mech below him. The hold on his spike eased, and he pulled back slowly as Deathsaurus came online. His optics flickered, and he gave the tank a tired grin that morphed into a genuine smile. Tarn found his hands softly caressed his lover’s cheek as he returned the smile.

“Does that satisfy you, Deathsaurus?” Tarn asked breathlessly.

“More than you know.” He replied, voice hoarse from the roar. “Get the cuff off, please. I want to touch you.”

Still grinning, Tarn opened the cuff and put it on the bedside table, along with his mask. Deathsaurus pulled him right away, kissing him softly as he was finally able to touch his lover, to touch those royal threads on his back. Tarn shivered, and moaned to the touch.

Eventually, Tarn pulled away. “You know, they were rather awkward when I sleep with another.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Deathsaurus shifted on the berth with the remaining of his strength, making room for the tank. He felt a lot more tired now.

Tarn settled next to him, not bothering to clean the mess up. Then Deathsaurus used his free hand to caress them as they kissed again, before drifting to recharge.


End file.
